Walking in the rain, back in the Mission to this fancy joint called Medjool (A fancy lounge in a fancy hostel? In the Mission?). Going to meet strangers for a stanger’s birthday gathering. She’s Lars, and the Russian hostess is no help in pointing her out. I recall her image, buried deep in her Tribe profile, and approach her at the bar. She’s cool in black, wearing a fuzzy Kangol hat, and a nice smile She gives me an appreciated hug.
The hostess soon seats us, and Lars’ amigos begin to show up. They’re almost all DJs, or dig the DJ scene. I’m introduced as the guy who shares the love for stencils. A drink and appetizers later, and I’ve enjoyed the conversations I’ve had. Lars is ready to move on to the next thing (must stay in motion due to lack of sleep), and a friend suggests a Tribe-related, Burningman, pirate-themed birthday party at a warehouse space in SoMa.
Hop into a car (after we find it) with a NP and a therapist, and dart off to SoMa. Get rock star parking and walk by a group of bored cops stannding around a broken into SUV. One cop stares at me and puts his hand on his pistol. Shit!
At the door of a big, ugly building, the bell is rung. “Watch out for the Teletubby,” he says after reaching UP and pushing the button. Three stories up, someone leans out a window and throws a key-laden Teletubby down at us. We’re in, and up industrial stairs, past a strange looking empty bar, a huge spider sclupture, and into the party.
Large props, letters from old signs, and other craziness fills this warehouse. There’s free booze at the bar, a few arcade games, and strange cubbies built out of the madness.
I must pee, so head for the bathroom and into three women in line. After a few hugs and introductions (more hugs from strangers!), one of the women suggests that I pee off the roof. “How would I go about doing that?” She points up the stairs and to a guy who’s just come back from the rooftop urinal. “There’s a construction site over on that side of the building. The rain’ll wash it away.” And what a view of that urinal.
Minutes later, Lars’ friends are discussing the weirdness of my peeing off of the roof. “Someone overheard my comment on it’s weirdness, and asked ‘how long have you lived in San Francisco?” “15 years I told him.” “Well, it doesn’t seem weird to me by SF standards of things.” Me either.
This conversation turns into a great chat with Lars on bathrooms, their designs, functions, taboos, and philosophy. She hits me up with the site urinal.net and we hae a great time talking toilets.
The group then moves over to the photo booth that’s set up. We have a good time watching the monitors as Lars’ friends go in there and goof. I end up in there after opening the stuck door and, ever creative, take a puff close to the digital camera. I walk out and the monitors show my stuff.
Lars and a carfull of her amigos leaves, again to appreciated hugs and goodbyes. I stay with two of her friends, and get to hear a great hip hop song that samples Bill Cosby’s complete chocolate cake for breakfast bit. Funny stuff. After my ride gropes in the phone booth with a new friend, we hit his truck for the ride back to the Mission.
Fun times for Saturday wanderings.